


Skin Tight

by Snake (Fatality145)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M, post-ME3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:57:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatality145/pseuds/Snake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaidan's body is both perfect and bad for tight fitting clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Tight

**Author's Note:**

> (mother. fuckin. luciano costa in tight clothes i can't not ok /hides)

Shepard was already shucking on his dress shoes by the time Kaidan had managed to fix his hair the way he liked it, standing in front of their bathroom mirror, clad in nothing but his underwear. John was someone who had to be forced into a suit, even forced into his formal blues, preferring his armour, his second skin, or just loose sweats and his hoody to anything else.

 

It had taken some whining and well placed touches for Kaidan to finally cave and let him wear his N7 jacket, jeans and a nice shirt, at least. He knew when he could get more with that silver tongue of his, but the look he’d gotten from Kaidan told him that was about as casual as he was going to get for their dinner outing, once in a blue moon, the former Commander pressing up against his back and sliding his arms around his hips, jaw propped on the other’s shoulder as he touched up his stubble.

 

                Kaidan had shivered as the hands past over his belly, to the smooth curve of his pelvis leading down to his groin, huffing a soft laugh and almost nicking himself with the razor.

 

                ‘ _If you keep that up, we might not even make it to dinner_ ,’ He’d said, voice a little low, turning his head and pressing a fleeting kiss to Shepard’s temple before nudging him back.

 

                ‘ _If you keep all of this up, we won’t make the reservation for hours_ ,’ Shepard had returned, unwillingly peeling his arms away, giving the Major’s ass a quick squeeze, serving to pull a jolt and soft, husky laugh from him.

 

                Now that the grooming was finished with, Kaidan was up to the clothing part, already having gone through the torment of letting Shepard pick them out. Or, rather, letting the man pick too many options then picking the best parts from those options. John would never be good at those sorts of things even if he worked on it. For someone with a penchant for everything else, style seemed to be the lowest on his list of skills.

 

                He started with the socks, pulling them on, then got to the pants, running a hand over the sleek, dark material where it laid over the foot of their bed. He furrowed his brow, lifting them up at the waist and looking over them. Kaidan couldn’t remember where or when he’d bought them, basically able to feel the smirk from over his shoulder where Shepard stood in their bathroom, lazily trimming down his facial hair stretched over lingering, glowing scars, busying himself, really, as the Major got ready.

 

                “Got ‘em for you. Pretty sure the size is right,”

 

                “Uhuh…” Kaidan replied, unassured.

 

                The pants were tight. Really tight. Hugging to the thighs and flank, as far as he could tell by looking. Much too small for him. He made a face, pursing his lips. No backing out from this one, not with Shepard having bought them for him, obviously he wanted to see them donned, and Kaidan could see why, sighing to himself.

 

                He bent over, feeling the eyes burning into his behind from around the corner and slipping his feet into the legs of the pants. The material was smooth, nice, against his skin, shifting and pulling them up. There wasn’t a problem until he got about halfway up his thighs, where the thickness of his muscle was too wide for the space provided. Stretching himself out, Kaidan gripped the waist of the pants, trying to tug them up, inch by inch. The material had little to no give, hopping on one foot as his balance fell of centre for a moment.

 

                “Maybe you should… Oil up,” Shepard butt in, now leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest, his lips twitching in a grin he was trying to hide. “I’ve seen it work before, it helps.”

 

                “Of course you have,” Kaidan grunted, struggling, pushing down the zipper as far as it could go. He didn’t exactly want to think of where Shepard had seen it, probably in some dingy Asari film with the girls dressing up in latex. “I don’t think that’s an option here. This isn’t… _that_ type of clothing.”

 

                “Well, you might want to hurry,” Bringing up his Omnitool, John checked the time, tilting his head, “I think we’re already late,”

 

                Kaidan stilled, hunched over and frowning. Awkwardly, he shuffled around to face the other, the expression stuck on his face.

 

                “If you aren’t going to help, then just leave,”

 

                “…I’ll leave you to your struggle. Good luck, Major,” Shepard chuckled, turning on his heels and leaving the room, down into their apartment.

 

                Groaning, Kaidan turned back, flopping onto the bed behind him, the material of the pants sliding a bit back down. He hefted himself back up, trying again, stretching out one leg and tugging it up, then doing the same to the other.

 

                Eventually, after much squirming and fighting with them, he got the waist of the pants to just beneath the curve where the top of his thighs met his ass. This was where the difficulty was going to start. A pathetic whimper came from him, but he was determined, now, pressing his heels into the floor and arching his hips up.

 

                His fingers hooked beneath the hem of the material, sliding them down to the back and yanking it up, arms and stomach and chest flexed and tensed with the strain. He cussed. Having gotten this far, there was no way he was going to leave this undone, even if they were late to the dinner, they’d have to deal, and it wasn’t as though they were going to revoke a reservation by the Saviour of the Galaxy.

 

                Sighing loudly, he relaxed back into the bed, rolling over and burying his face into the covers. It wasn’t going to work like this. Blindly, Kaidan kicked off the pants, at least the material was already stretched out, and rid himself of his underwear, too, before picking the slacks back up and getting them back to where they were, easier, that time.

 

                Trying the same method, shoulders pressed into the bed, hips lifted up, he attempted it again. He didn’t usually go commando, but it seemed the only option, at that point, getting the waist of them a little further than he did the last time. Holding it there, he slowly pushed himself back up into a stand, tipping his hips, fingers hooked in the belt loops.

 

                His ass was proving to be a bane, as much as Shepard would like to disagree at times, pushing his waist forward and trying a new approach. The material definitely hugged tight around his thighs, showing the muscularity off in a way Kaidan wasn’t sure he liked, making sure not to undo any of his work so far.

 

                By now, he was sort of leaning towards the idea of oiling up his skin, maybe a bit. While it would probably be more uncomfortable afterwards, at least it would get the job done. No, he was going to get this, and get it done properly, hopefully without ripping the seams. If that happened, he’d probably have a partially upset but mostly impressed Shepard on his hands.

 

                Rolling his eyes at that thought, he decided to just take it one step at a time, since he was so close, pressing at the flesh of his flank as he pulled it over, agonizingly slowly but surely. He felt it working as he eventually got it half way, clenching his jaw, hopping a few times on the place, just a bit more.

 

                A massive sense of relief washed over him when he finally got the waist of the pants up over his backside, feeling it close in tight against him, like another skin, slumping over and letting out the breathe he held. Lolling his head down, he squeezed his eyes shut only to open them to the fact that the rest of him was still outside of the material.

 

                Kaidan lifted a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead, smoothing out the ingrained stress lines over the years before working on that with a small wince, tucking himself in. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the rest, having to suck in his already flat stomach to do up the buttons, then the zipper went up with relative ease.

 

                It wasn’t comfortable, in the slightest, but good looking clothes rarely were, and Kaidan couldn’t deny, as he looked at himself in the body long mirror, that it was pretty nice, how the dark fibres clung to his lower half, accenting the curves. Shepard better find the struggle worth it.

 

                He flexed out his legs, checking the small amount of give the pants had, stretching them a little more. There was some spillage, the thin sheet of fat beneath his worn, pale skin that made him soft and hard at the same time, but that could be covered up with the shirt that he grabbed. That wasn’t nearly as tight, and it was flimsy, a simple white shirt he would wear beneath a jacket.

 

                Pulling that on over his head, he nudged his shoes over to the end of the bed, deliberately sitting himself down to put them on. He shrugged on his jacket afterwards, giving himself a once over in the mirror again and heading out. Finally, they’d get to dinner. _Finally._

 

                The Major found Shepard leaning on their kitchen bench, scanning through a news datapad with a lit cigarette between the fingers of his other hand.

 

                “Well?” Kaidan started, waving a hand and getting his attention. As soon as John’s eyes hit him, they blew wide, going still, smoke slowly curling out between his lips that were slightly parted. He expected a wolf whistle, maybe, but not full blown stasis, cocking a brow and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

                “Turn around,” Shepard managed, twirling his fingers which held the burning stick, some of the ash falling off and onto the counter. Snorting, Kaidan did as told, turning on his heels, thighs and flank flexing beneath the material with the movement.

 

                “Better have been worth it, Shepard,”

 

\--

 

Kaidan found those pants were so much easier to take off, with John yanking at the legs, the thought of the waiting dinner reservation as far back as possible in their heads.


End file.
